When Was the First Time I Let You Down
by Isis1
Summary: On a dreary Saturday morning, Grace and Eli pondered the mystery of each other. Eli seems lamentful of his past actions when he was in high school. EliGrace


-Am I the only one who gets unrequited love?-  
  
Jessie Sammler walked behind Grace Manning, muttering, while shaking   
  
her head. They were currently heading to the kitchen. It was a dreary Saturday   
  
morning, well dreary for Jessie anyway. Grace had told her that she enjoyed   
  
grey days better than the sunny ones.   
  
As they entered the kitchen, Jessie instantly saw her brother. He   
  
was sitting, reading the newspaper. If someone would have asked her four   
  
months ago what her brother's job was; she would have said, sitting on his   
  
ass and trying to look pretty. Now, she found it funny that he was working   
  
for a small newspaper as a copy-boy, though he did not like to be called that.   
  
So, Jessie, being the ever meddling child that she was, met Grace's footsteps,   
  
falling in step beside her. As they passed Eli, she nudged Grace with all her   
  
weight, then ducked out the door.   
  
Grace fell onto Eli's lap, who let out a surprised yelp. For many   
  
moments she sat on his lap. For one, she did not know what had happened;   
  
two, she wondered why she had fallen on a lithe body, and not the floor.   
  
Slowly, she peered up at the body she was using as a chair. Then, Grace   
  
blushed furiously. That only served to make Eli smirk broadly. Shocking   
  
her, he bounced her up and down a bit like one would do a child.   
  
"Little early for Christmas, huh?"   
  
"Huh?" she asked, standing up.   
  
Eli merely shook his head and lounged in his chair. She went to   
  
the fridge and decided she would fix a big glass of milk. Grace sat on the   
  
opposite side of the table as Eli. To which he only stared openly at her.   
  
Feeling lingering heat on her cheeks, she drank her milk quickly.   
  
"Do you remember the first time we met?" Eli inquired, thoughtfully.   
  
Grace jerked her head up: that was an odd question indeed. She   
  
searched her memory journals, thinking of the first time they had actually   
  
shared a word with one another. The memory was shadowed, and she could not   
  
quite recall exactly. But, she did remember the first time she laid eyes   
  
upon the young man before her.   
  
"No, not exactly. I do believe my memory's fading,"   
  
She could see almost instantly his face dropped. That made   
  
her tingle with nagging guilt. Grace studied Eli's profile for a long   
  
time. Running her hand through bed-head hair, she sighed heavily. Then,   
  
finally she found her voice and spoke to him.   
  
"I remember the first time I saw you, though,"   
  
"Oh?" he perked up, taking a sip of his warm coffee.   
  
"You had just scored the most at a basketball game one weekend;   
  
when you came to school on Monday morning, every girl was talking   
  
about you,"  
  
"That so?" a grin permanently attached itself to his face.   
  
"I think we had an entire restroom stall dedicated to the hottiness about you,"  
  
"I'm flattered," he announced, arrogantly, "did you happen to add to it."   
  
"I might have written a dirty limmerick or two about you,"   
  
"Ha!"  
  
She laughed along with him, in spite of herself. Grace was   
  
pretty sure that in a couple of days something bad would happen to her:   
  
when she got bold, she got bad luck. Shrugging her shoulders, she got   
  
up to pour a cup of coffee for herself. The rain had subsided to a slow   
  
drizzle. In a contented mood, Grace stared out the window, watching the   
  
water fall without hail.   
  
"When did you actually see me?"   
  
"After school, I was trying to get all my books to fit in my bag -   
  
I was not successful. I heard this horrible pounding down the hall.   
  
I turned my head, and there you were - Eli Sammler, in all your glory -   
  
beating up a locker. I summed it up to be sexual frustration at the time,"   
  
Grace sighed, dreamily.   
  
"I'll say," he mumbled.   
  
"Ah, never say anything bad about a woman's intuition," she playfully   
  
warned, wagging a finger at him.   
  
They chuckled together once more, but then fell into a death-like   
  
silence. She was pre-occupied by certain things; he was pre-occupied by   
  
certain things. Yet, they both found comfortableness in each other's   
  
pressences - for the most part at least. Glancing up at one another,   
  
Eli and Grace shared a cheeky grin.   
  
"What did you think of me?"   
  
"Truthfully?"   
  
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Grace," he complimented her,   
  
honestly.   
  
"Quite frankly - I thought you were the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen,"   
  
she drank some more coffee.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"I don't think I need to playcate your ego anymore, Eli,"   
  
Even her words were etched in playfulness. Ironically, she had   
  
slept in and thought it was going to be one of those boring, sleeping days.   
  
Eli sat up, then leaned over the table. Grace thought he looked like he was   
  
about to pounce on his prey. But, she remained calm, enjoying the view of   
  
the darkened skies. It was a beateous sight, really.   
  
"What else?" he was intrigued.   
  
Grace thought. She wondered if he recalled what he had done for   
  
here that day. In all the years that they had lived in the same house,   
  
never once did he mention it to her. She supposed that he had forgotten   
  
it the minute after he had done. It did not bother her - not really -   
  
maybe just a little bit. Sighing once again, she sat up with perfect posture.   
  
"You slammed your locker door closed, then puched it - extremely hard.   
  
In my daze, I dropped three or four too heavy books. I remember distinctly   
  
the way you turned your head, and looked at me as if I was your arch-nemesis.   
  
I was frightened that I would soon become that locker. I watched you carefully   
  
as you came toward me. And, as you neared, I think time stopped for you -   
  
everything just slowed down. You were wearing baggy blue jeans that somehow   
  
fit your waist quite nicely. Your faded, black Pink Floyd shirt hung loose,   
  
yet tightly on you. And, you wore a red button-down shirt over it. You were   
  
a new age god. Then, you just smiled and picked up my books, helping me shove   
  
them into my back-pack,"   
  
Eli just gawked at her. His mouth was slightly ajar, and he   
  
wanted to close it, or say something. He could not believe she recalled   
  
that much. Of course, he knew he still had the Pink Floyd shirt, but it   
  
had a few holes in it. Pity, he thought, I really did love that shirt.   
  
But, the fact of the matter was, that Grace had practically told him   
  
everything about him that day - except for he was thinking.   
  
"Wow," he breathed.   
  
"Oh, come off it," she tittered, "every girl in my class had a crush   
  
on you their Freshmen year, didn't you know?"   
  
"No," he innocently shook his head, "I didn't. Back then I had a ball   
  
and chain, and she kept a tight leash on me."   
  
"I know," and she laughed once more.   
  
"How do you know?"   
  
"I tutoured you once, yes?"   
  
"Yes. You were a great tutour - very thorough,"   
  
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sammler. She erased some other tutour's   
  
name, and put mine beside yours,"   
  
"She didn't?" he asked, increadously.   
  
"Oh, yeah she did. Said that I wasn't like the other backstabbing girls,   
  
and wouldn't try to make a move on you, or something like that,"   
  
Eli thought for a moment. It did make sense - perfect sense in fact.   
  
And, he had been glad it had been Grace at the time. He did not like tense   
  
situations, and someone he knew was sure not to offer that. Shaking his head,   
  
Eli chuckled.   
  
"Why the twenty questions?"   
  
"I feel like I don't know you anymore," he smirked at her.   
  
"Ah, there's that old Sammler charm. I'm sure you wormed way into many beds   
  
with that look,"   
  
"Truthfully?" he mocked her from earlier.   
  
"Eli, I don't in the least expect that from you,"   
  
Grace meant it to sound sarcastic, even witty. But, her intentions   
  
fell short, when Eli lost all merriment in his face. She blanched considerably,   
  
then came the wave of guilt again; she hated feeling guilty. Thoughtfully   
  
frowning, she caught his gaze and held it. Eli saw the apologetic gaze from   
  
her; it still hurt.   
  
"When did I first let you down?"   
  
"Eli . . ." she was cut off.   
  
"When, Grace, when?" his tone was harsh.   
  
"You were suppose to help me make popcorn,"   
  
"What?" he inquired, perplexed.   
  
"At the carnival. You ran off with Jennifer and her friends,"   
  
"Oh," he remembered; that day had been fun, "I remember that."   
  
"Do you, now?" she asked, gloomily.   
  
"It was a good day. You were witty, and I was an ass," he laughed.   
  
"I'm sure it's much better in your mind, than mine,"   
  
Eli leaned closer; she was talking evasively - he did not like people   
  
who danced around the point. Mainly, because he was one of those people. He   
  
knew he lied, but in his mind he lied so that he would not hurt others. Just   
  
knowing that he could disappoint someone, made him think about lying in a new   
  
light. Grace watched how Eli ran his tongue over his bottom lip; he did that   
  
when he did not want hear certain things. And, woe be the day, she thought, if   
  
anyone calls Eli Sammler on one of his faults.   
  
"What do you mean, Grace?"   
  
"After both of you left to frolick, or do whatever it was both of you did in   
  
your spare time - one of her friends stopped to talk to me,"   
  
"And . . . " he prompted.   
  
"She basically told me that my legs were too short and fat, my chest was   
  
non-existant, and that you liked my ass,"   
  
He blinked rapidly, not making any sound. Eli thought for a moment   
  
that he had forgotten how to speak. Wondering why one of Jennifer's friends   
  
would . . . Then, it hit him: Jennifer's friends were jealous of Grace. He   
  
started softly laughing at first, then suddenly he was holding his sides and   
  
wiping tears away.   
  
"Thanks, E. You just made my day, you know. You're agreeing with . . . "  
  
"Grace," he choked out, "you have nice tits, and your legs . . . "  
  
He could not believe he stated that train of thought. Clamping his   
  
mouth shut with his hand, he prayed that she had not heard him. By the look   
  
of pure shock on her face, he knew better. Eli reached for his coffee and   
  
finished it off. Grace merely let her eyes drift to the floor, trying to   
  
hold back her giggles. It did not last very long. Gazing back at Eli, she   
  
laughed, and laughed, until she could laugh no more. Eli sighed in relief.   
  
He decided to change the subject.   
  
"Did you have a crush on me back then,"   
  
"Of course, Eli, of course," she said, blandly.  
  
Grace stood, yawning. She thought about reading for the rest of   
  
the day. She finished off the last of her coffee, taking it and the empty   
  
glass of milk to the dishwasher. Eli followed her every move. He most   
  
certainly did not expect her to be so calm. From what he remembered, he   
  
could have swore that she would have slapped him. Then, he reminded himself,   
  
she is not fourteen anymore.   
  
"I'm a fuck-up," he stated, assuredly.   
  
"Don't have to tell me twice,"  
  
"I'm serious, you know,"   
  
"I know," said Grace, turning to face him.   
  
Grace leaned on the sink for support, and set about studying Eli   
  
once more. He still looked like that boy she had first seen so many years   
  
ago. Yet, there were subtle changes: he was a bit taller, more muscular,   
  
and his hair was back to its orginal colour. Oh, she pondered, if I could   
  
just turn back the time, I would have us stay in high school forever - or   
  
at least do it differently.   
  
"Then," he paused, absolutely perplexed, "why did you like me?"   
  
"Oh," Grace waved him off, heading back to her room, "you seemed nice,   
  
and different from all the other jocks."   
  
Nodding, Eli thought that was good enough reason - not really.   
  
He tried to recall why he had liked Jennifer. And, he did his damnedest   
  
to remember why he had let Carla use him over and over again. He could   
  
see Carla smoking a cigarette after they had just had sex; could see the   
  
closed eyes while she was on top of him; but most of all he recalled how   
  
she left immediately after. He could not deny it: it hurt. It hurt so   
  
bad sometimes that he felt dirty - like a broken toy that is just kept   
  
around because one has not gotten around to throwing it out yet. He kept   
  
waiting for Grace to throw him out.   
  
Grace slowly made her way out of the kitchen. From a light mood,   
  
it seemed she had made a total mess out of things. She figured they would   
  
avoid each other for a while, then make-up. They always made-up. He kept   
  
messing up; she kept taking him back for all he was worth. It was ritual:   
  
do bad thing, avoid talking about bad thing, then make-up for bad thing.   
  
Grace fondly smiled at thinking of the dozen white roses he gave to her for   
  
missing her play. Then, there was her eighteenth birthday; he had forgotten.   
  
Her smile grew wider, when he had brought home a silver thumb-ring the following   
  
week.   
  
"That," she added, looking over her shoulder, "and I liked the way your   
  
ass looked in jeans."   
  
Before Eli could even mumble words, she was gone. He grinned   
  
as she left a trace Vanilla in the kitchen. There was just something   
  
that was bothering him this morning. For, the most part it was his   
  
lack of recieving any attention lately. And, the other was his Father's   
  
wedding a while back. There was something there, he was sure Grace had   
  
felt. But he too much of a coward, he knew, to ever admit it. So, that   
  
morning he was up early on his day off, and decided to catch her and converse   
  
with her. Eli decided, that all in all, it was a pleasant morning. 


End file.
